The Plan
by Satan Abraham
Summary: "I'm Gary Barkovitch. My home is Washington, DC." The Walk at different points from our lovely Barkovitch's POV. Oneshot. Rated T for swearing.


**Mm... I felt like revisiting The Long Walk, and guess what? It has managed to drag me back into obsession.**

**I've got a Collie Parker oneshot being written right now, too, so, no, I do not just like Barkovitch. x3**

* * *

_"You have to pace yourself. You have to focus on yourself. You have to have a Plan."_

Yes. His Plan. Focus. Screw Garraty, McVries, Olson... he would win. Because of his Plan, because of his focusing. It was as simple as that. The walk - it was all in your head. If you pushed yourself, if your mind pushed your feet even after they were bleeding and sore and broken... he could win this.

_"I told them I felt real strong. I told them I felt prepared to go on forever. And you know what else I told them?"_

They didn't let him finish - the other Walkers. Garraty and Pearson and McVries - they told him to go away. So he did. He didn't need them. There was another person, right up there - Parker? Something like that. He was walking alone, for the most part... it would be easier to talk to someone all alone, right? The response - "Get out of here before I pull your fucking nose off and make you eat it."

Screw talking to people. He had his Plan.

_"Come on, you sonofabitch! I'll dance on your goddam grave! Come on, Dumbo, pick up your feet! Don't make it too easy for me!"_

He didn't really know what he was doing, but it was fun. It gave him... it felt like it gave him some sort of power. So he continued screaming at the guy - Rank. Barkovitch ducked Rank's punchees - he was used to ducking punches, he was good at it. But then he tripped. And got a warning. A fucking warning for dodging. He continued to insult, and eventually Rank died.

It wasn't his fault, either. Rank had started it, after all. The boy he'd tripped over shouldn't have been in the way. Rank, that Rank shouldn't have been so easily provoked. And now they were calling him a murderer. He... he was just... they didn't understand. McVries, Baker, Garraty... none of them understood.

He wasn't even sure he completely understood.

_"I ain't no killer! I'll dance on your grave, scarface! I'll-"_

They had cut him off. He hated McVries, he did. If McVries died, he would be happy, elated, ecstatic. They were all so stupid.

_"Another boy has gone ober to dat Silver City, lawd, lawd."_

Why wouldn't McVries just leave him alone? And now the other one, Garraty, that damn McVries's friend was here too, and he was freaking out about the boy who's feet had gotten run over. he didn't know why he was so disturbed. This sort of thing was normal. People dying? That was normal. That's what this thing was all about. Death.

But he wouldn't die, he had his plan.

_"Look at you there with your big earnest face hanging out, Garraty. What's your pitch?"_

Garraty had gone on to explain Scramm - the big stupid one - was married. The guy was stupider than Barkovitch had originally thought.

His voice cracked on 'fuck.' That was annoying.

_"No, course I didn't. Listen, I got off on the wrong foot with you guys. I didn't mean to. Shit, I'm a good enough guy when you get to know me, I'm always gettin' off on the wrong foot, I never had much of a crowd back home. In my school, I mean. Christ, I don't know why. I'm a good enough guy when you get to know me, as good as anyone else, but I always just, you know, seem to get off on the wrong foot. I mean a guy's got to have a couple of friends on a thing like this. It's no good to be alone, right? Jesus Christ, Garraty, you know that. That Rank. He started it, Garraty. He wanted to tear my ass. Guys, they always want to tear my ass. I used to carry a switchblade back at my high school on account of guys wanting to tear my ass. That Rank. I didn't mean for him to croak, that wasn't the idea at all. I mean, it wasn't my fault. You guys just saw the end of it, not the way he was... ripping my ass, you know..."_

Christ, he was practically pouring out his soul. He didn't know why; there was something about Garraty that made you want to spill everything, tell your life story.

He heard himself promising to help out, to go along with their plan. It wasn't as good as his Plan, but it was still a plan.

Garraty had left, then. Dropped back to talk to Stebbins. He heard a warning being given to Garraty and felt a sort of sick satisfaction. Served him right. Served him right for... for not believing in the Plan.

_"It's all a part of the Plan. You remember when I told you about the Plan? Didn't believe me. Olson didn't. Davidson neither. Gribble neither. Garraty, I daaanced on their graces!"_

Garraty asked him something after that, but he plowed on. Garraty didn't look to be listening very closely, but one thing about Garraty? He always listened, at least a little.

Ah, there was the question he'd been waiting for. The, what will you ask for when he won. When he won. Maybe Garraty wasn't so stupid, after all.

_"Plastic feet. Plaaastic feet, Garraty. I'm just gonna have these ones cut off, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke. I'll have new plastic feet put on and put these ones in a laundromat washing machine and watch them go around and around and around-"_

And then the bastard had interrupted him, talking about friends and shit like that. Friends. Why? Why did friends even matter? There was something about friends in the Plan, he was sure of it - "We'll all be glad to see you die."

All... be... glad. G-L, not S. He wouldn't care if Garraty would have said indifferent, and sad? Yeah, he wasn't expecting that. But... but glad?

"Don't hate me. Why do you want to hate me? I don't want to die any more than you do. What do you want? do you want me to be sorry? I'll be sorry! I... I..."

And then Garraty had looked crazy, like he was completely insane, and asked a question that made no sense. And two died, but they didn't matter, they didn't matter at all, it was all him, all him and maybe-

_"Garraty! Gaaarrratee! I'll dance on your grave, Garraty! I'll daaaance-"_

One of them interrupted him; he was always interrupted, it was too much, he couldn't fucking take it, he hated this, he'd started to sob and he didn't know why, those fucking idiot fucking idiot Collie Parker Abraham that fucking idiot Garraty-

_"Not yet, you whores! I ain't gone yet! Not yeeeeeetttttt..."_

Fucking idiot fucking idiot fucking idiot-

A moment of clarity hit him as he screamed, higher and higher and higher. He wasn't going to let them take him. He was going to do it, if it had to be done. And it had to be done, so he would do it.

He reached for his neck, found a hold-

(fucking idiot McVries fucking idiot Garraty)

and pulled. It tore with amazing ease, and he went on screaming and he was still-

(fucking idiot Olson didn't believe in the Plan)

walking still walking through this whole thing, still-

* * *

**:D**

**I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it... there's just something about writing insane people that gives you a refreshing feeling... and a headache...**

**But, whatever. :D**


End file.
